(in memory of Lt.Nguyen Nam)
Translated by DO QUY TOAN
My reprieve from outpost duty at Duc Hai
left you, friend, to fill my boots and lead patrols
through no-man's land-graveyard of decapitated,
grass-high trees-that surrounds this clutch of thatched huts,
No tree tall enough to tie a hammock to,
you spread your sack of driftwood bones-their ache
floating down the river of your spine-beneath
her eaves, the bosom of our shared village whore
I heard how badly that day went: sunlight
stacked in halos of heat like purgatory,
South China Sea wind whipcracking across
your face, coating it in a crusty salt mask.
And then, crackling at the edges of your sleep,
our carbines, their AK-47's
startled you, eyes filling with baby blue sky
that stared down like a painless future we crave.
Back from leave, I turn my grief on Duc Hai
like a bad cousin; put a pistol round
through the water jug that bleeds into the dirt,
then dries, a passing shadow-yours it seems
Wailing across the chasm of my absence --
my two-week'leave-, sky torn by shads of light,
I divide my gift of dried squid-meant for you-
with our platoon, but this wine is for you and I.
Drink, little brother: dull the guillotine
blade of loss. To bring you joy, I sip my guilt
and chew the tough squid. But look...in this mist
of tears I taste the blood of my own finger.
Nam, my friend, Duc Hai seems more deserted
now without you, I sit by the calm sea
that no longer gives me peace. When we move
to Duc Phung outpost, who will know death next ?